


It wasn't a clown

by TheIceQueen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bad reaction to drugs, Blood, Broken Bones, Brothers, Canon Compliant, Caretaker Dean Winchester, Drugs, Fear, Gen, Gore, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Halloween gone wrong, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Sam Winchester, Injury, Major Character Injury, Needles, Nightmares, Pain, Painkillers, Restraints, SPN Genre Bingo, Surgery, Worried Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: Sam knew going to that party was a bad idea. Nothing good ever happens to him on Halloween. This time is no different.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is written for the SPN Genre Bingo. Square filled: Halloween  
> and for Sam Winchester Bingo. Square filled: Hurt/Comfort

“Why do you think we never go to Halloween parties?!”

“Sam… If you say, _I told you so,_ I’m dropping you on the floor.”

Dean pushed the door to the infirmary open with his shoulder, while holding Sam up with the other arm. Sam was not putting weight on his leg and hung, by his arm, over Dean’s shoulders.

“I said it was a bad idea. Why couldn’t you just pick up a girl and go see a scary movie, like every Halloween?”

“Shut up and get on the bed.” Dean hauled Sam though the room and left him by the exam table.

Sam took a few seconds to catch his breath. He didn’t know if he was winded from scolding Dean or from the throbbing pain spreading from his ankle and shin to his whole leg. “I hate Halloween.”

Getting on the table wasn’t easy. Even figuring out how to turn his back on it while standing on one foot, proved to be a challenge. Dean was getting supplies from all over the room and didn’t seem to notice that Sam was struggling. With his back against the table, Sam made a small jump to get up and his ankle felt like it was being torn off. His eyes blackened, and he lost track of op and down.

“Hey, hey. Sam.” His brother’s hands made a solid grip on both his shoulders and Sam grabbed on to his forearms. “Hold still for a second. I’ve got you.”

Slowly, Sam’s eyesight came back following the return of a normal breathing.

“Okay?” Dean looked questionable at him, still holding him in place.

Sam tried nodding but quickly learned that it only resulted in blurry sight and nausea. “Okay.”

“Sit still.” Dean turned to get the tray of things he’d gathered and put it on the small table next to Sam.

“Dean?” Sam’s heart skipped a couple of beats and was now hammering faster and harder than before. “You’re not preforming surgery. What’s with the scalpel?”

The moment spent in silence between them, made Sam understand that he didn’t have all the information that Dean had.

“Let’s get your legs up and I’ll take a look okay?”

Sam nodded but as soon Dean touched his lower leg, his muscles spasmed and his fingers turned white around the edges of the mattress. He landed on his back, and his neck arched back.

“Okay, Sammy. Breathe now.”

Dean’s hand on his shoulder radiated warmth through his torso and arms, making him loosen up and breathing slower and deeper. Sam opened his eyes and looked up at his big brother.

“Dean… put on a t-shirt will you.” Sam closed his eyes and got the last of his control back.

“You don’t like the jacket?” Dean pouted and looked away like he was hurt.

“I thought the whole point with this party was to find some girl. How did you plan on doing that in an open, black, leather jacket… and nothing underneath?”

“Hey!” Dean looked Sam straight in the eyes. “If a girl don’t know, or appreciate David Lee Roth, I don’t want to know her.”

If it hadn’t hurt to move, Sam would have laughed loudly. Instead he settled for a small chuckle, and even that sent burning lines up through his leg. “I didn’t think it was important for you to get to know her, but I’m in pain here and _that_ doesn’t help.”

Dean shrug his shoulders and walked to the door, taking off the shiny jacket. “I took the sunglasses off.”

“Only after I told you not to drive the car, at night, with them on!” Sam’s head fell hard back onto the padding. Yelling after Dean had taken more energy than expected, and he was still panting when Dean came running back, in a black t-shirt.

“You okay there Sam?”

Dean sounded worried, which didn’t help Sam at all. He was beginning to think that something was seriously wrong.

“I’m great. Did you put the knife away?”

Dean was next to him when he opened his eyes. He gestured for Sam to lift his head and supported it as he did. The dizziness took Sam by surprise and it took a moment for him to focus on his leg. His shin was swollen and even with jeans on, his suspicion that it was broken, was confirmed. When his eyes fell on his ankle he swallowed and only then realizing that it was to control his building nausea. There was more blood than he’d noticed, it was already making a big puddle on the rubber, covering the padding on the table. Blood wasn’t a big deal. Pain he could handle. The stake piercing his skin, and God knows what else, through his ankle, he wasn’t so sure about.

“Sam…?”

Sam was aware that Dean was talking to him, but he would throw up if he were to open his mouth to answer.

“Sam!”

The back of Sam’s head hit the padded table and he looked op at his brother, pinning his shoulders down with both hands.

“You got a little pale there. You with me?”

Sam nodded.

“Sam…” Dean stole a gaze at the table with the scalpel. “I can’t just pull that thing out. It got some big ass splinters, it will tear the skin and maybe tendons too. Do you understand?”

Everything went white. Dean’s hands vanished, and a church bell were resonating in Sam’s head. The throbbing, burning in his leg was still there. More profound than before. It spread up over his knee and soon he felt his thigh burning too.

“Sammy!”

His shoulders and torso was shaking.

“Sam! Look at me, man!”

Two hands were clutching on to his shoulders. With the pain and the violent movement it was hard to concentrate, but he got his eyes open. Dean stopped shaking him.

“Sammy?”

“I’m… I’m good.”

Dean shook his head. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Its fine. I’m still awake.” Sam grabbed on to Dean’s forearm and made an effort to hold eye-contact with his brother. “Just get it out, okay.”

Dean’s hand felt shaky on Sam’s forehead when he moved his hair away from his face and turned away to pick up a little glass bottle. Dean wasn’t afraid that he would hurt Sam. Sam knew that if his big brother felt that he might hurt him, he would get help. No, Dean wasn’t nervous about that. But he was nervous. Sam’s big brother knew how Sam handled morphine, and it wasn’t pretty.

“Dean, I can do without.”

Dean had already pulled the drug into the syringe. “You almost chocked on your lungs when I lifted your foot up there. No way, I’m doing this without morphine.”

Sam damned the decision to go to that party. The waiting around just hoping that the clown in the other room would stay there. Getting involved when Dean got in a fight, when someone talked trash about the Impala. Bad luck always followed Sam on Halloween. Dean threw the first punch, but the Michael Jackson impersonator had friends and somehow Sam was the one pushed backwards through the wooden railing on the balcony. The same railing that had left a piece of it self embedded in his ankle.

“I can’t. Dean let me, at least _try_ without it.” For the first time that night, a burning build in Sam’s eyes, warming them and getting ready for tears. Dean must have seen the desperation on his brother’s face. He put down the syringe and placed his hand light on Sam’s cheek.

“Okay, Sam.” He pulled away and grabbed a pair of scissors and started removing the pantleg.

Sam could manage the touch on his broken leg. Dean was careful not to touch the wood, but soon that would be inevitable.

Dean put on gloves and picked the scalpel from the table. “I need to cut from one side to the other, so I don’t have to pull it out. Hold on. Don’t move.”

Sam reached over to get a towel, bit down on it and nodded at Dean.

Air made it’s way though his throat, rough and ragged, but he didn’t hear the sound it must have made. His foot was gone. Torn off by the ankle. His leg was electrocuted and as a result his whole body was spasming. He was held down. Dean’s face was over him, talking, or more like yelling, but there was no sound. He grabbed on to his brother’s upper arms, hoping that he could make it stop, but Dean just kept yelling.

“...am! You here… …a…”

Sam looked firmly at his brother’s face, trying to make out more words.

“Sam!”

The pain subsided and withdrew to his lower leg again. He was able to nod, but didn’t loosen his grip on Dean’s arms.

“That’s it, Sammy. I’m sorry.”

Dean tore an arm free and went for the syringe.

“W-wait.” Sam gasped a few times to get air enough for the next words. “How… how far…?”

“How far I got?”

Sam nodded. If he’d cut all the way he might as well just take it out and get it over with. The stitches after wasn’t so bad.

Dean held Sam’s shoulder down a little firmer. “Not even a quarter of the way. I’m sorry, but you need this. I’ll have to disinfect it too. You’ll go into shock.”

Dean put the needle closer to Sam’s arm. Sam’s stomach was already clutching in on itself. There was nothing he could do to keep his breathing from getting way to fast and shallow. The sound of his own heartbeat rushed passed his inner ear with a buzzing, pounding sound.

“Dean please.”

Tears flowed freely now. Dean took his hand, not to hold it, but to hold it down. It didn’t matter. Sam wouldn’t move. He knew Dean was right, but the prospect of what he was about to go through was too much to handle without begging and crying.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, you know that, right?”

Sam nodded and squeezed the hand holding his down and Dean pushed in just enough morphine to knock out the large man.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean’s heart was beating too fast for him to be sitting that still. He was on a chair next to Sam. His elbows on the edge of the padded exam table and his chin rested on his folded hands. Not even the smallest change in Sam’s breathing went by unnoticed. Last time had been horrible for Sam, and Dean too. This time, Dean had had to give him an extra dose since it had taken so long to fix Sam’s torn up ankle. It could be a good thing; maybe he would wake up slower and wouldn’t be as affected by the drug or he would wake up faster and almost not noticing it. Dean shook his head at the thought. More morphine, more trouble. It was the only thing that made sense.

Sam’s head turned slightly to the side where Dean was sitting, a small movement only Dean would have seen, and his eyelids flickered before he was still again. Dean took his brother’s hand, carefully not to wake him, and moved it higher on his chest. There was no reason that Sam had to be confronted with the belt around his hip as the first thing when he woke up. It had torn in the core of every bone in Dean’s body when he’d restrained Sam’s hip, legs and feet to the table. Sam couldn’t be trashing around, his leg and ankle would be hurt more, and the other foot could accidently kick the injured one. There was no other way, but looking at it still made Dean’s stomach feel like he’d swallowed smoldering coal.

Sam’s eyelids flickered again. This time more persistent and he turned his head further. A deep hum convinced Dean that this was it. Sam’s jaw clenched, and he breathed through his nose. Faster and faster. Dean brushed his hand over Sam’s forehead and buried it in his hair.

“It’s okay, Sammy. I’m here.”

The sudden grip Sam had on Dean’s hand startled him and he stood up to be right in front of his brother, if he were to open his eyes. He didn’t. Sam’s humming soon became moans, and when his face started contracting, in what Dean could only imagine was fear and pain, they turned to low cries.

“Sam. Shh… It’s not real.” Dean tried to make Sam know that he was there by moving his hand slowly down the side of his face, but Sam retracted from the touch with a loud yelp. He was shaking, fighting the restraints on his legs and trashing his head back and forth. Sweat was building on his forehead, slowly dampening his hair.

“No!”

The loud, clear word stood in contrast to the mess tossing around on the table. Dean took the other of Sam’s hands.

“Sam. Wake up!”

“Don’t…! No. I wont do it… Let me go!”

Sam was panting between words and crushing Dean’s hands. Dean was wondering if the belts were starting to do more harm than good. His brother was strong. Could he hurt himself fighting those?

“Don’t…! I won’t let you do it!”

“Sammy! What’s going on? Wake up!” Dean tried steadying Sam’s hands, hoping it would help him calm down, but nothing seemed to register with him.

“No… Please.” Sam’s voice was suddenly almost soundless. “No… no...”

Sam stopped fighting. His body went limp and his hands relaxed in Dean’s. Tears were spilling from his eyes, adding water to the already wet hair.

“Sam… Buddy?” Dean moved both Sam’s hands under one of his, on Sam’s still rapidly moving chest. He was calming down some and Dean hoped it was over. It hadn’t been that long this time. He cautiously removed the damp hair from his brother’s face.

Sam’s eyes sprung open and he stared directly into Dean’s. Dean smiled. “Hey.”

The big body under Dean’s hand tensed and Sam’s face froze. His breathing shot straight up again, and he tore his hands from under Dean’s.

“G… get away from me.”

“Sam. It’s me. It’s Dean.” Dean tried reaching for Sam’s shoulder, but the big guy avoided it with a force that could have flipped over the table had it not been right next to Dean.

“Leave me alone!” Sam turned his head away from Dean’s sight, but he quickly looked back as if he needed to know where he was.

Sam had had nightmares after big amounts of morphine four times by now. All of them had been horrible and he hadn’t spoken for hours after, and the first couple of times he wouldn’t talk about what he’d dreamt for weeks. He’d never _seen_ things. He’d never been awake during this. Dean hated himself for putting this on his brother. They should have gone to a doctor. They shouldn’t have been at that party.

Sam’s breathing was getting out of hand. Small gags was finding their way through his throat in-between gasps for air.

“Sam. You need to calm down.”

“The… hell I… The hell… I will!” Sam’s eyes were flickering and turning back in his head, but rapidly settling on Dean again, every time.

“Sam!” Dean didn’t want to ask this. He didn’t want to know this. But he needed to, if Sam were to shut down for days after this. “Sam. Say my name.”

Sam stared at him. He didn’t say anything. Dean wasn’t sure he could, through the coughs for air, anymore. “Sam! Who am I…? Say it!”

The big shaking hands that had succeeded so well in escaping Dean’s, grabbed on so tight to the belt over his hip, that the knuckles turned white. He swallowed and took a few slightly deeper breaths. “L… Lucif…”

Something tore a knife deeply through Dean’s stomach. As far as he knew, it had been years since Sam had even had nightmares about him. “Okay, Sammy.” Dean’s eyes were burning, and his throat made it hard to produce words. Not that it mattered. No matter what he said, it would come out of Lucifer’s mouth.

Still staring at Dean, Sam was struggling harder to breathe.

“Sammy. Calm down. You’ll suffocate.” He tried touching his face to calm him, but of course Sam pulled away, as far as he could. Dean could do nothing as his brother’s entire body shook as he gagged, coughed and gasped for air.

Scared that he would make it worse, he took a step back and watched as Sam’s lips turned blue around the edges and his eyes rolled backwards and closing.

As Sam’s hissing breathing became silent and relaxed and his body stopped moving, the only sound Dean could hear was his own heartbeat. Going way too fast.


	3. Chapter 3

When Sam opened his eyes he wasn’t sure he was done sleeping. His rips felt like he’d gone ten rounds against a baseball bat, and judging by how sore and dry his throat was, he must have smoked two packets of cigarettes.

It didn’t seem like moving would be a smart thing to do if he wanted to stay awake, but he felt a weight on his left hand, so he tried moving it just a little.

“Sam?” A raw whisper broke the silence and Dean’s face popped into his line of sight. “Hey, buddy. You with me?”

Sam nodded, not completely sure why he wouldn’t be. The throbbing pain in his ankle broke the confusion and he remembered the party and the fall. He tried moving to get more comfortable, but he couldn’t.

“Sorry about that. I had to make sure you didn’t move after… well you know with the morphine.”

The morphine… Right. Thinking about it made his stomach curl, and weirdly, he felt scared and powerless, but he couldn’t remember why.

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

Sam shook his head. “I’m just tired. My lungs kinda hurt.”

Dean looked up and down Sam’s body like he was thinking over everything, more than once. Then he placed a heavy hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Do you want to go to your own room. Are you able to get up?”

“Sure.”

Sam couldn’t wait to get out of this vomit-green room and to his own bed. He tried pushing himself up, but he had to wait for Dean to unlock the belts. His head was lacking oxygen and he got a nasty taste of that when he sat up too fast, and his ankle burst into flames when he lowered it from the table.

Hanging by one arm over Dean’s shoulders and pushing the other hand firmly against the wall, Sam slowly made his way down the hallway without using his leg. With one small misplaced step, Dean had to wrap both arms around him, so he wouldn’t fall over. He didn’t touch his foot to the floor, but the damage was already done; the pain from the sudden movement shot up through his leg and planted itself in his stomach. He gabbed on tight to his brother as Lucifer’s sickening smile flashed before his eyes. He remembered everything.

“Sammy?! You okay?”

Sam nodded, but his shaking arms were holding Dean in a hug like nothing else mattered.

“You hurt the leg?”

“N… no.”

Dean took a firmer hold on Sam and dragged his shaking brother the rest of the way to his bed. Dean got him situated and Sam’s leg didn’t hurt as much when he got it elevated, but he didn’t accept the cover Dean tried laying over him. He was already feeling claustrophobic enough as it was.

Dean sat down next to him and Sam turned his head away. He didn’t want to play twenty questions just yet. Dean would be the first person to get that. Except this was about his Sam so he would do anything to get to know, to help.

“Sam. Don’t shut down this time.”

Dean sounded more worried than he’d been before, and Sam couldn’t help but to look at him to see if the face matched the voice. His older brother looked even more worried, maybe even scared.

“It was different today. Do you know that?”

Sam felt worse. Physically for sure, but also… he’d never actually felt the fear after. He’d remembered it, but now it was still _in_ him. He didn’t know how to answer so he just looked at his brother, hoping to get an explanation.

“Sammy.” Dean moved a little closer. “You didn’t just dream. You were hallucinating.”

How was he supposed to react to that? He wasn’t sure he _was_ reacting. Frozen still, and staring at Dean could be a reaction, right? Dean took Sam’s hand and Sam just looked at it. Not sure if he should squeeze back of pull it away.

“I know you thought I was Lucifer…” Sam’s hart skipped a beat. He didn’t want to talk about him. He was not thinking about him if he could avoid it. Dean continued. “…but what’s with the first one?”

Sam shook his head. He knew exactly what Dean was referring to, but he wanted to know what Dean knew first.

“Sammy. You were yelling for someone to let you go, and that you wouldn’t do something or let someone do it… Sam, what happened?”

Tears were building in Sam’s burning eyes and he realized why his lungs and throat had been hurting. He turned his head away. Couldn’t Dean just go away? Why did he have to sit by his bedside, hold his hand and make him cry? Sam’s brain just wouldn’t form the words to make him leave.

“Hey… Sam. C’mon, it’s me. Just tell me this and I won’t ask for more.”

Sam kept his head away as a few tears escaped his eyes. He took a deep breath, making his lungs hurt less, but his voice still cracked when he spoke the first word.

“Ga-adreel… Kevin…”

The room was silent as the message registered with Dean and he figured out what to do with it. Sam still didn’t move and refused to look at his brother.

“Okay. I’m staying here. The drugs are out of your system, so I can wake you if you dream. You’re not going through that again.”

Tears were flowing freely from Sam’s eyes now. He was sure Dean knew, but he still stayed turned away from him. He couldn’t get himself to let go of Dean’s hand though. If that was the link for him to stay, for him to wake him up, it would be unbearable to loose it. He squeezed his fingers a little around his brother’s.

“It’s okay, little bother. You need sleep. I’ll stay.”

Dean squeezed back and placed his other hand heavily on top of the brother’s hold on each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.  
> Please leave a comment for me. I love those. ^^


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